Itsy Bitsy Spider
by Ralinde
Summary: In which a little harmless wandwaving goes wrong. Oneshot.


_A/N: Belated birthday gift for reminiscent-afterthought, some angsty Weasley family fluff for you! _

* * *

They raced each other on their brooms, soaring through the miniature Quidditch pitch Dad had created in the orchard. Their laughter echoed across the garden.

"Gryffindor!" yelled Bill and tossed the Quaffle to George. Fred made a dive to take it from his twin but missed, nearly crashing onto the grass. He pulled up only just in time.

"Oi!" Charlie yelled. "Watch where you're going, we ain't gonna win this way!"

He snatched the Quaffle from George in the second he wasn't paying attention, too busy trying to make out whether Fred was alright. Charlie grinned and tossed the Quaffle to Fred, who only just gripped it and then flew on towards the hoops. Excitement bubbled through him. He noticed that Bill wasn't quick enough and if he just aimed for the hoop on the right…

"Gryffindor scores!" he cheered as he threw the Quaffle through the hoop.

"How is that possible, _we_ are Gryffindor!" George protested. "We can't both be Gryffindor, you're on the other team!"

"Relax George, Fred is just dishing out free points for us," Bill intervened, grinning.

"No way, you're losing this one, Bill." Charlie had pulled up his broom and joined them.

"You're stupid," George said and shoved Fred.

"_You'_re stupid!" He couldn't just let George get away with that, so he pushed him back.

A shrill whistle sounded and Percy came flying towards them. "Stop that!" he said. "You can't push each other."

"He started it!" Fred and George replied simultaneously and pointed at the other.

"Did not!"

"Did do!"

"Did not!"

They stared at each other, their fists clenched.

"Mum says we shouldn't fight," Percy interfered.

Fred mimicked his words, annoyed at Percy's tone, and saw George do the exact same thing at the exact same moment. _Sometimes being a twin wasn't such a terrible thing after all._ Charlie rolled his eyes. "Oh dear, saint Percy to save the day."

"Shut up!" A blush of indignation crept up on Percy's cheeks.

Fred grinned. It was so easy to make Percy upset. Just a tad harder than it was to upset Ron, but not much.

Bill was the only one to take pity on Percy. "He's right. We shouldn't fight. Let's just call it even, okay?"

When it was Bill who said they shouldn't fight, they were always a bit more willing to listen. Bill was cool. Bill already went to Hogwarts, after all, so he had a wand and he could do _real_ magic. Fred looked at George and George looked at him. "We'll stop," they said in unison.

Charlie didn't look like he wanted to give in, but finally he relented and shook hands with Bill. "Even. But next time you're going down, just you count on it."

"Can't wait 'till next time, so we can crush you again," Bill grinned.

He ushered them all back into the house.

"Mum, Dad, I scored!" Fred yelled as he entered the kitchen.

"I almost scored too!" George, who came right after him, yelled.

"You did not."

"Yes I did. Gryffindor won."

"Yes, because I was in Gryffindor and I scored."

They clenched their fists, ready to start a fight all over again, but Mum's reprimanding look made them both keep their mouth shut. Fred glared at George. _It was always the same. He couldn't do a single thing without George wanting to draw attention to himself._

"I'm sure you were all great," Dad tried to mediate. He'd been doing a puzzle with little Ginny. She put a piece into her mouth when Dad wasn't watching. Fred and George grinned, despite themselves. They already knew Dad would be on his hands and knees that night, trying to find the missing piece of the puzzle. He'd done it all the time when they hid pieces around the room when they were younger. But he wouldn't be able to find it if Ginny had eaten it. Somehow, they found this very funny.

"Ron wants to score too," three-year-old Ron stated, leaving his building blocks and wobbling towards them, his teddy bear clutched in his hand.

"No sweety, you're a bit young to be flying broomsticks," Mum said.

Ron's lips started to tremble. "But I'm a big boy already, aren't I, Mum?"

"Yes you are, but you're not old enough to fly a broomstick yet."

Fred thought of Ron on a broomstick. He snickered. _He'd fall off, that was for sure_. George was thinking the same thing, he could tell.

"You know, when it's your birthday, I'll teach you how to fly, alright?" Dad offered.

"And I'll help you," Bill chimed in.

"When's my birthday?" Ron asked.

"In seven months."

"How many nights is that?"

"Not that much," Bill lied. "It'll be your birthday in no time."

Fred knew it was a lie. When it was Ron's birthday, it was almost his and George's birthday as well, and their birthday wasn't any time soon. Ron didn't know it was a lie though, and he laughed merrily at Bill's answer. _Silly Ron._

The following morning, just after breakfast, Mum and Dad couldn't find Ron. They had looked everywhere in the house and Mum was starting to freak out while Dad tried to calm her down, but even he looked worried. Fred was justr intrigued. _Ron was younger than he and George were, so how had he managed to escape Mum's watchful eye? If only they could find out how he'd done it…_

There was a loud bang coming from the garden, which startled everyone. Mum and Dad looked at each other, Mum turning very pale. "That's not a good sign…"

They both rushed into the garden, and everybody followed, curious as to what Ron could have done to create such a bang.

They found him near the broom shed, smiling uncertainly. "I only wanted to play Kiddits too…"

Around him were their toy brooms. The brooms looked like they had fallen out of the shed. One of the brooms was without a doubt damaged beyond repair. It had almost snapped in half and twigs were sticking out everywhere.

"My broom!" George yelled at the sight of it. He rushed forward, Fred following him closely. "Oh, it's your broom Fred, not mine…"

"What?" That couldn't be right. Fred pushed his brother aside.

He saw that George was indeed right. It _was _his broom that was lying there broken and battered. The 'F' Dad had painted on it was clearly visible on the handle.

"My broom!"

He turned to Ron, tears in his eyes and his fists clenched in anger.

"You're stupid! You're the stupidest little brother ever and I hate you! I hate you for breaking my broom! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!"

"Yeah, I hate you too!" George said, sympathising with his twin.

Fred stepped forward, but Bill stopped him.

Ron looked uncertainly at Mum and Dad, tears shimmering in his eyes. "You can fix it?"

Fred blinked, suddenly hopeful. _Of course._ _Mum and Dad could always fix everything, Mum fixed Ron's teddy bear when it lost an eye, and Dad fixed the tire swing when the rope was broken. Surely they could fix his broom as well?_  
Mum shook her head. "There's too much damage, we can't fix it."  
Now Ron started crying in earnest. "I'm sorry, I wanted to play with Bill and Charlie and George and Fred and Percy..."

Fred wasn't paying him any attention. He was crying as well. "My broom…"  
Dad scooped Ron up.  
"I know you did, but what you did was wrong," he said. "You are not allowed to go into the garden all by yourself. And you're certainly not allowed to open the shed when no one is with you. Which reminds me," he turned to Bill and Charlie, "why wasn't that shed locked?"  
Charlie looked at his feet. "I guess I forgot," he murmured.  
Mum tried to calm him and George down, but nothing she said helped. His broom was broken, irreparable. Now he couldn't play Quidditch anymore and it was his favourite sport in the whole wide world.  
"Perhaps you can share George's broom and then we'll get you a new one on your birthday," Mum said.  
He glared. "I'm not a stupid _baby_ like Ron. I know it takes _ages_ for it's my birthday. It's Ginny's birthday first, and then Percy's and yours and Bill's and Charlie's and Dad's, and then _Ron's._.." He said the name of his little brother with contempt. "And we can't share when we're playing Quidditch together_._"_ How on earth could she not understand that?_  
"I'm sorry, I know you're upset, but there's just no money to buy you another one at the moment. I wish things were different, I really do, but…"  
"I hate you all!" Fred yelled angrily, brushing of her arm. He ran back to the house, tears streaming down his face. After a moment's hesitation, George followed him inside.

The rest of the day, they both stayed inside, brooding on revenge in their own room. They only came out for lunch, but went back upstairs as soon as they could. They heard Dad tell Mum that 'they were upset and maybe they needed a little time, and that they would come down later' but they had no intention of doing so.

Fred wasn't always happy with being one half of a twin and never been seen as just Fred, but in moments like this, he was glad that George was there. George was just as upset about the broken broom as Fred was and together they ranted about Ron and about their parents who didn't understand that they couldn't share George's broom when they were playing two-and-two Quidditch with Bill and Charlie.

Fred's chance for revenge presented itself later in the afternoon, when they found Bill's wand. Actually, it was George who had found it and who came running towards Fred, a huge grin on his face. Fred's face split in a grin as well when he saw the wand.

"Can I try it?" he asked eagerly.

"Me first," George replied. "I found it." He gave a flick with the wand and multi-coloured sparks erupted from its tip.

Fred did the same, with the same result.

They were both in awe. Bill's wand was wonderful. They had no doubt it could do the same cool things as Mum's and Dad's.

"Do it again," Fred urged George, who eagerly complied.

This time, he waved the wand around and said some nonsense words. He pointed it at a plant in the windowsill. It turned blue.

"Cool!" they both said. "We can do magic with a wand! Real magic!"

"My turn again!" Fred said.

This time, George was a bit more reluctant to hand it over, but he did so eventually.

"Let's see, what can I do…" Fred mused. "I know!" a wicked grin spread across his face. "Ron damaged my broom, so I'm going to damage his teddy bear."

"How?"

"I don't yet. But it would serve him right, don't you think?"

George nodded vigorously.

As silent as they could, they sneaked up to Ron's room, which was a floor below theirs. Ron was lying in his bed, as they had expected, for it was his naptime. He clutched his teddy bear and contently sucked his thumb, his eyes half open.

"Even better," Fred murmured. "Now we don't have to wake him up and risk for him to start screaming before we've even done anything."

"What are you going to do?"

"Behead it."

"Wicked. Do you know the spell?"

"No," Fred admitted. "But the worst that can happen is that a leg tears off instead of its head, right? And that's okay too, as long as there's _too much damage to fix it_," he quoted Mum.

He wanted to impress George – and maybe show him that he was better in magic – so he took a stance, looking importantly, and waved the wand around, muttering some words that came to his mind.

He was wrong about a leg tearing off being the worst thing that could happen to the teddy bear. Before their very eyes, the teddy bear started to transform. It turned black and grew bigger. They watched in horror as the teddy bear sprouted eight thin, hairy legs and four sets of big, bulgy eyes, all the while still growing. Fred felt his knees go weak at the sight of it. _This wasn't supposed to happen…_

"Turn it back," George whispered hoarsely.

"I can't," said Fred, his face white. "I don't know what I did!"

Ron started screaming. A high, shrill scream that sent shivers down their spine. They saw the fear in his eyes and backed away. He was terrified. And quite frankly, so were they, because the teddy bear – that by now resembled an arm-sized spider – clicked its legs menacingly and started to crawl onto Ron's face. Ron screamed for dear life, trying to push the spider away but when his hands encountered the stiff hairs, he screamed some more.

"Shouldn't we do something?" Fred asked in a strangely strangled voice, but he was frozen to the spot.

George couldn't even reply. He was staring white-faced and big-eyed at the monster they had somehow created.

They heard footsteps thundering up the stairs and seconds later, the door to Ron's bedroom flung open. Mum nearly fainted when she saw the huge spider attacking Ron. Dad yelled something and pointed his wand, instantly killing the spider. Mum rushed to Ron's side, scooping him up and holding him tight, trying to comfort him, but he wouldn't stop wailing. Dad however, turned to the twins, his eyes glistening with anger.

"Are you two out of your mind?!" he bellowed. "What were you thinking?"

"We didn't…" Fred started, still slightly trembling.

"No, that much is obvious. Go to your room, both of you. I'll talk to you later. And give me that wand!"

Dad snatched the wand from Fred's hand and pushed them out. "Your room. Now."

Like two beaten puppies they crept upstairs. They hadn't seen Dad so mad before, he was usually rather calm. They sat on their beds and waited for what seemed like an hour, not saying a word. They knew they were really in trouble now. _I shouldn't have said that spell_, Fred thought.

Eventually, heavy steps on the stairs indicated that Dad was heading their way. Downstairs, Ron was still imitating a mist horn, wailing and crying frantically.

"Dad, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…" he burst out the moment Dad walked in, but the look on Dad's face immediately silenced him.

"Dad…"

"How could you? He's only three years old! You may very well have scarred him for life! I am very, very mad at the both of you. No scrap that. I'm disappointed. Your little brother's _teddy bear_?"

"It was only supposed to be beheaded!" Fred blurted out.

"And why would you want to behead his teddy bear?"

"Because Ron broke my broom…" He shuffled his feet nervously. Somehow, he sensed that Dad wasn't going to like that answer.

"Because he broke your broom," Dad repeated flatly.

Even though he was only five years old, Fred could see the disappointment on his father's face. He'd been right. Dad didn't like it at all.

"It wasn't meant to turn into a spider and attack him."

For a moment, there was silence. Fred glanced sideways at George, who hadn't said anything so far.

"You're grounded."

"But Dad! It was an accident!"

"The spider, maybe. An accident is your broom breaking because it fell out of the broom shed. I'm very sorry that it happened, but that gives you no right to purposely damage something Ron likes. We did not raise you to break your siblings' toys. Or anybody else's, for that matter. No more Quidditch for you until Bill and Charlie take off to Hogwarts."

"We did it together." George exclaimed, speaking for the first time.

"Then you're grounded as well."

"What? But that's not fair!" Fred protested, jumping up. He thought this was highly unfair. Ron damaged his broom and got comforted and he damaged Ron's teddy bear and both he _and George_ got grounded? George hadn't even done anything! There were tears in his eyes. He hadn't meant it like that, surely Dad knew that too?

"Sit down."

"It's not fair," Fred repeated, but he sat back down on the bed because of the look in his father's eyes. He didn't like that look. He didn't like it that Dad thought that they had purposely tried to scare Ron. Well, maybe that was a _little_ bit true, but the spider was an accident, honestly!

"Have you noticed your little brother's still crying? He's terrified."

The wailing downstairs had indeed still not stopped.

Fred opened his mouth again to speak, to apologise, or just say something, but Dad cut him off. "No, I will not hear another word about it anymore." He rubbed his temples. You can stay here, thinking about what you've done. I'm very, very, disappointed with you," he repeated.

When Dad had left, he looked at George.

"You're stupid. You don't have to get grounded, you didn't do anything!"

"I'm not going to be playing Quidditch if you can't," George replied. "We can't do two-and-two Quidditch anyway if you're not playing, so it doesn't really make a difference."

"It's not fair!" Fred said, for the third time. "Ron breaks my broom and that's it, but when we do something in return… No Quidditch until Bill and Charlie go to Hogwarts? But when they're gone, we can't play Quidditch at all! We can't play with _Percy,_ he's a bore. He doesn't even _like_ Quidditch. He only referees because then he can tell us we're not following the rules. Why wasn't _his_ broom broken instead of mine?"

"It's all Ron's fault," George said.

"Yes it is, it's all Ron's fault," Fred agreed.

They put their arms around each other. Just like that, they formed a wordless pact. They would not fight amongst themselves anymore. Whatever happened, they'd always stick together. They'd believe each other and have each other's back. Just them against the world, if necessary.

_In years to come they'd always claim two things about that long hot month of August in which they were forbidden to play Quidditch: that it was then that they had started experimenting with jokes and creating – exploding - products; and that turning Ron's teddy bear into a spider had been their intention all along, making it sound like it had been their first practical joke ever. If anyone asked – and even if they didn't ask – they'd tell the tale of how since that day, Ron would cry like a baby whenever he spotted even the tiniest spider, and they'd laugh heartily, mocking him, and never once mentioning how terrified they'd been themselves. _


End file.
